Badger

by Kindal Debenham

  He touched another set of controls, and the projection shifted. “From this system we will be jumping to Harel, and from there to GRC 55410. After we traverse the system, our next riftjump will take us to GRC 11649, the newest of the Celostian Union’s outposts.” High Admiral Nivrosky’s eyes touched Jacob’s again, and the man’s lips twitched into what might have been a smile. “I believe they call it Reefhome.”

  The eyes of the other officers swung toward Jacob, and he tried to keep his expression impassive. He had not been allowed to return to Reefhome since that final desperate struggle against the Telosians, but he had heard the citizens of that distant outpost of the Union still carried a lot of enthusiasm for him and his crew. Apparently their fervor had transmitted to the rest of the Navy as well. Intent on preserving their newfound freedom, the frontier spacers had built up the repair and manufacturing facilities Admiral Dianton had forced them to create, quickly becoming an ideal forward deployment area for many Celostian forces patrolling that section of space. Officers who had passed through the system or spent time in the repair docks had mentioned to him the readiness of the people of Reefhome to contribute to the war effort and their determination to support the Union at all costs.

  Of course, they had not forgotten the people who had sacrificed so much to earn freedom for them. Though he had not been able to confirm it, Jacob had heard at least one vessel christened there carried the name Wolfhound’s Tooth; even worse was the rumor that the Jacob Hull had sailed out of the Reefhome docks as part of the local defense force. The prospect of finding out exactly how many of those rumors were true did not particularly appeal to Jacob, especially not with the rising number of officers like Kenning and Upshaw who would use it to attack him further.

  Nivrosky only paused for a moment, likely to allow the inevitable distraction to run its course. Then he continued, punching in commands that directed the projection to outline the course the fleet would follow. “Once we have resupplied and effected repairs at Reefhome, we will be riftjumping into the true Frontier. Within three short transits, we will find ourselves at Wayward in time to destroy their trading station and intercept General Al-Mustafa when he arrives. Are there any questions?”

  Captain Upshaw cleared his throat almost immediately. The High Admiral nodded in his direction, and the pale-faced officer rose to his feet, hands clasped behind his back.

  “High Admiral, with all due respect, I must ask why we are acting offensively at this particular point in time. A strike against an Oduran outpost, even one placed so close to our territory, could easily serve as a provocation Banks’ opponents can use to topple him. Instead of weakening our foes through decapitation, we could easily drive the Odurans to strike back even harder than we are currently prepared to face. Surely a diplomatic mission to the post might persuade the Odurans to change their behavior, perhaps even sway this General Al-Mustafa to our cause.”

  Nivrosky’s eyes hardened as the captain spoke, but his voice remained cool and level as he responded. “A fair challenge, Captain Upshaw, with several valid concerns.”

  Upshaw nodded in polite acknowledgement, but the High Admiral’s voice did not lighten as he continued. “While negotiations have their place in the relations we have with other powers in the universe, the Navy currently has not been tasked with any such efforts. The General, along with the task force that will accompany him, remains a threat to our security and liberty, regardless of the internal politics of the Oduran League. It is far more important to prevent the General’s momentum from building and perhaps allowing Banks to last a while longer against his opponents than it is to mollify our enemies at this time.”

  Upshaw’s face reddened. “I understand your reluctance to make contact with them, High Admiral; neither of us is suggesting we give ourselves over to the bastards in charge of the League. I just wanted to know whether that option had been presented to the High Seat, and if he had any particular reason for discarding it.”

  The conference room filled with tension. Upshaw’s question, though properly phrased, came fairly close to an accusation against the High Admiral’s competence and integrity. While Nivrosky did not flinch at the implication of the words, to be challenged by one’s own flag captain in front of other officers was not something most admirals would tolerate. Jacob wondered if his former supervisor was about to be relieved of command. The possibility unfolded a future full of delights in his imagination, at least until the High Admiral tilted his head to one side and grinned.

  “I wish I knew, Captain Upshaw. The reasons of the High Seat are beyond the ken of a simple sailor such as myself.”

  The unexpected joke broke the tension in the room like a rock in a still pond. Ripples of amused chuckles spread through the conference room, and Jacob saw many of the officers relax. Even Upshaw smiled, though his attention remained on the High Admiral.

  Nivrosky shook his head. “The course you proposed was brought before the High Seat several times, but he approved and endorsed our current orders. That is all we need to know of the situation.”

  Upshaw nodded and sat with a huff. Jacob noted his face was a little flushed, but Upshaw seemed relatively satisfied.

  Another officer sitting next to Upshaw stood next, waiting until Nivrosky acknowledged him before he spoke.

  “High Admiral, will any other ships be joining our task force before we reach the target system? While the ships we have assembled here are fairly impressive, I do worry whatever force the General brings with him will easily overwhelm us. At the very least, we would achieve a fairly costly victory with a high level of casualties.” A murmur of agreement spread through the officers, though the voices were pitched low enough that Jacob had trouble making out the individual words.

  The High Admiral inclined his head slightly towards the speaker. “Another good question, Captain Sagezza. The ships making up this flotilla have been taken from units which have either recently been damaged in combat, are new construction vessels, or are otherwise likely to be considered indisposed by Oduran intelligence. Thanks to their current lack of operatives in our repair yards, we should be able to move to the target system without alerting the Odurans we are coming.” He paused, and his lips twisted as if he had tasted something rotten. “Unfortunately, including other ships from the fleet would give the game away, as well as leaving more portions of the border open to Oduran raids. We can’t afford either risk as we carry out our operation.”

  Captain Sagezza nodded, his expression equally as unhappy, but he remained silent and sat. The High Admiral looked around as if he were looking for other objections or comments and found none. Having waited for a short time, Nivrosky finally broke the silence himself. “Thank you for your continued willingness to defend the Celostian Union. For the time being I hope you will stay on the Badger, at the very least to finish coordinating our formation maneuvers. Information regarding our targets and the expected Oduran forces we will face will be included in an intelligence packet we will send to you. There are also a few personnel changes that will be sent to each of you, mainly to better employ the talents of our officers against the enemy.”

  Nivrosky paused, bowing his head slightly. When he brought his eyes up again, Jacob could see the weariness there, hiding just behind his hard expression. “Lastly, you have my personal thanks for all you have done. It is an honor to lead you into battle, and I assure you our labors will not be in vain. Every sacrifice you have made, and every burden you now bear, allows the people of the Celostian Union to live in freedom and peace. Our children and their children will look on your accomplishments with pride and gratitude.” He saluted them, and the officers rose as one to return the gesture. Jacob felt his heart burn as the High Admiral dropped the salute. “You are dismissed.”

  The officers filed out of the conference room, the murmur of small talk ushering them into the corridor. Jacob waited for the first officers to make their way through the hatch, watching as the High Admiral stayed behind. An admiral, apparently the comm
anding officer of the Golem class dreadnaught Seat, had approached Nivrosky, and the two were speaking with the ease and informality of old friends who had weathered fire together. Jacob wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to share such a longstanding comradeship, or if his current trend of broken friendships would continue.

  He turned back toward the door and saw Leon waiting for him. The High Admiral’s son gave him a curious look, as if he had been expecting something other than what he was seeing. “So?”

  Jacob blinked. “So what?”

  Leon folded his arms, and his eyes narrowed. “What? No reaction to the fact we’re going to Reefhome? No excitement, no trepidation, nothing at all?”

  He shrugged, trying to suppress his discomfort with the situation. “It’s just another assignment, and we’ll only be passing through anyway. It’s not like your father’s going to give us the chance to see the sights while we are preparing to head out on a major operation.” Jacob saw the disappointed expression on Leon’s face, and he tilted his head. “Were you expecting something more, Nivrosky?”

  The other officer coughed into a fist as if he wanted to clear his throat. Conveniently, it also meant he had a good reason to avoid Jacob’s eyes. “I might have made a bet with Laurie about your response.”

  “Oh really.” Jacob shook his head and grunted. “And who won, Commander?”

  Leon spread his hands and sighed. “She did. My Countermeasures officer knows you very, very well, Captain Hull.”

  Jacob gave Leon a very unprofessional grin. “Perhaps you’re right. Teaches you to try and outguess a pointer.”

  Leon chuckled at the somewhat derisive nickname all Countermeasures crew shared.

  A moment later, however, Jacob frowned. “Wait, this means you knew, before you left the ship, that we would be going to Reefhome. You knew it long enough to talk to Laurie about it too.”

  Leon’s expression turned chagrined. “I…might have heard about the High Admiral’s plans, and I might have made a few suggestions as to where the flotilla could leave from.”

  He gave the commander a cold glare. “When exactly were the two of you going to tell me? Or was it supposed to be a surprise here?”

  “Well I did tell you your presence would make supplies from Reefhome easier to come by.” Leon raised his hands when Jacob continued to stare at him. “Okay, okay, I know. I should have told you, but it could have been considered a breech in protocol. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about where we were going until I arrived on Badger, just like you.”

  “Yet you told Laurie.”

  Leon rolled his eyes. “She probably already knew anyway. Isaac’s got his fingers in so many com channels he might have known everything I did.” A shadow of something must have crossed Jacob’s expression, because the other officer stopped. “Is something the matter? What’s going on with Isaac?”

  Jacob shook his head. “Lieutenant Bellworth is doing just fine, Leon.”

  Rather than accepting the bland explanation, Leon folded his arms again and raised an eyebrow.

  With a sigh, Jacob gave up on any hope of keeping the matter quiet. “Things are…difficult…for him and me right now. There was a break-in on the ship, and the intruder used some fairly advanced hacking skills.”

  “So he was a suspect.” Leon nodded. “That must have made him unhappy.”

  The sympathy in the other officer’s voice only worsened Jacob’s melancholy. “More or less. It seems to be a habit of mine lately.” He brought his eyes up to lock onto Leon’s again. “There is another thing you could have warned me about, by the way.”

  The High Admiral’s son had the gall to look confused for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Oh. Al-shira.”

  It was hard to resist slugging the man in the arm, but Jacob reminded himself the High Admiral was only a few feet away. As necessary as Alan Nivrosky thought Jacob would be, it was doubtful he would let him beat on his son while he was in the same conference room. “Yeah, Al-shira. A little advance warning would have been nice, Commander Nivrosky.”

  Leon winced. “I didn’t know she would be that mad at you, Jacob. I thought she would just want to talk to you about what was going on.” He met Jacob’s eyes steadily. “Although even if I had known what she would do, I still wouldn’t have warned you.”

  Jacob tilted his head. “What, you think I somehow earned this?”

  The other officer shook his head, but his eyes were still steady. “Yes, in fact, I do.” Before Jacob could respond, Leon held up a hand. His face was the model of official formality. “I don’t know exactly how serious the two of you were before she was reassigned, but it was serious enough the personnel board was worried about it. Now I don’t know everything that went on, but I’d say she deserved at least a letter or two since then.”

  His words caught Jacob so much by surprise that he was left staring at Leon with his mouth open. By the time he had recovered the ability to speak, it seemed like an hour had passed. “I have no idea what you’re—”

  Leon had refolded his arms, and now he raised a single eyebrow. “Oh really. You’re going to tell me this entire time you’ve never felt anything, at all, for Naomi Al-shira.”

  Jacob closed his mouth with a click. “Commander Al-shira was an officer under my command, Leon. If I had felt anything, it would have been a violation of my responsibility as a command officer.”

  Leon shook his head. “Fine, then, hide behind that excuse if you want to. Just remember, to the rest of us, what she’s expecting from you really isn’t all that hard to figure out.” Leon glanced to the side, and his mouth twisted. “I believe my father is waiting for me. You have my best wishes in trying to remedy your situation.” With a respectful nod and a quick salute, Leon left.

  Jacob stared after him for a few moments, still utterly and completely baffled by the exchange. Then, realizing he was the only officer who had remained behind in the now nearly empty conference room, he turned on his heel and left. The last thing he wanted was for the High Admiral to ask what was wrong.

  Of course, it would be nice if he had any idea what the answer to that question was in the first place.

  Chapter Seven

  For the tenth time that morning, Jacob watched his flagship die and swore to himself.

  The rest of the simulation room was empty; apparently it had been reserved for his exclusive use for the entire journey to the fleet’s destination. At the moment, he was more than happy to have the privacy. He watched the rest of his simulated fleet die, ship by ship. With his flagship destroyed, the program would not let him send any more commands, and the formations he had set to face the simulated Odurans were quickly unraveling and faltering. It took only a handful of minutes for his fleet to be scattered in utter and abject defeat.

  Not that his commands would have helped. The scenario had not looked pretty from the outset. The opposing fleet had contained nearly twice the number of ships, and most had been of a heavier class than his own. Jacob had no idea how Admiral Nivrosky expected him to do anything against those odds, but he had his assignment. No matter how many times the simulation beat him, he was going to keep trying.

  The scenario shifted to the next in the sequence. From what he could tell, there were sixteen different battles laid out for him, and over the past eight days, he had managed to win exactly zero times. Each scenario was a disaster. In one he was heavily outnumbered by the Odurans; in the next, half his ships were so heavily damaged they bled air before the battle even started. In another, his ships were traveling, oblivious, through an asteroid field before they were ambushed by an Oduran task force, while another, and by far the worst, he commanded only four ships in an attempt to hold off two Telosian pirate fleets during a raid on a convoy.

  Twice he had sent reports of his progress—or lack thereof—to Admiral Nivrosky. It was humiliating to detail his defeats, but each time he hoped that perhaps the admiral would offer advice, or even critique his efforts. Jacob knew there had to be a wa
y to win or at least to avoid complete failure—but he had no idea how to find it.

  His reward both times had been the same: a simple, terse response. “Try again.”

  So he would. Jacob gritted his teeth as a clumsy fleet of armed merchantmen faced off against Oduran destroyers. He assigned them formations and watched the battle lines close. Perhaps he could make his ships last at least as long as the last time…

  He reached his quarters utterly exhausted. His orders to report to the simulation chamber had been broad enough to allow him time for frequent breaks, but his continued failures tied him to the place as securely as any chain. After eight straight hours of watching his ships blow up, however, it was time for a short rest.

  Jacob staggered into his quarters and passed the desk. He deliberately tried to ignore the blinking light that told him messages were waiting for him. Unfortunately, in addition to his simulations, he still had the burden of a squadron command. Every day more updates and reports came from Beagle and Terrier. While both ships were doing fairly well under the supervision of Commander Flint and Leon’s executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Burlington, there were always issues that had to be addressed by the squadron’s ranking officer. Of course, since the crew was almost literally under the eye of the High Admiral, very few discipline problems still occurred, but those that did he had to personally attend to. At the very least it was better to be able to deal with those issues here rather than collecting them at the central communications area, as he had to do for the letters his sister Catherine sent him.

  The reason for his discomfort there wasn’t hard to figure out. Commander Naomi Al-shira was nearly always there, managing the flow of information that flowed into and out of Badger’s circuits. Unlike the Wolfhound or other destroyers of her class, Badger had a fully staffed center overseeing everything from transmissions to other members of the local squadron to the positioning and riftjumps of messenger drones. It was a position of great trust, since even a single wrong message or a garbled transmission could create severe difficulties for the entire Celostian Navy, and it was obvious from the respect her crew showed her that Naomi had earned their trust.